


Silence

by zetsubou69



Series: The Scotsman, the Englishman, and the ginger cat [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Domesticity, Established Relationship, M/M, Q Has a Cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5877085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubou69/pseuds/zetsubou69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silence -<i> (noun)</i> an absence of any noise or sound</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

Sometimes, in between the missions, when the domestic bliss should be setting in, Bond is taking care of a cat and Q is the more important for a while, because all Bond does when on English soil is just paperwork and training young agents, a hobby dangerous to those younger agents, a hobby he took interest in with growing age and growing number of wounds that are harder and harder to heal, sometimes, a silence sets in.

There’s a sharp _thank you_ when Bond places fresh mug of tea on Q’s desk (scrabble Q mug, ginger and lemon tea this time, because despite what everyone believes in, Q does not drink only the posh earl grey, he’s pretty common guy drinking whatever is set in front of him), and Bond is slightly put off; he expected at least a look in his direction, as there is no imminent threat to MI6, and Q usually pays him more attention. Bond lives for his Quartermaster’s attention, a fact Q is strongly aware of and indulges Bond in.

“Is everything alright?” Bond asks, following Q’s gaze to the source code on screen.

Q just breathes out exhausted _yes_ , and then he puts on noise cancelling headphones. 

Bond is almost stunned. He eyes Q’s lithe body, Q’s dismissive body language, then backs off the Quartermaster’s office, with a plan to surprise few of more promising candidates for double-oh posts. Neither he nor Alec weren’t getting any younger and it was soon time they retired, maybe for the sake of what they eventually build at home.

Home. A concept they never dreamed of having. Big telly, even bigger bookcase, and two cats.  Something to cherish.

 

*

 

New trainees also do cherish Bond’s input, although what he does is mostly bitch about stuff, what are they doing wrong, how they are blowing their cover, how they should improve, sometimes he spars with them and puts them down on the mat.

“A fight should be over fast. The longer you spar, the more tired you are, the more mistakes you make.”

They all nod, silently, and then the noise of their shouts and growls fills the training hall again.

 

*

 

When Bond comes to pick up Q from work (Q has a licence, he also has a car, but there’s something about relaxing in the Aston Martin, huddling his computer to his chest, and being safe, no alarms, no people but his partner, nothing, just ride home, where his cat awaits him), Q greets him with silence, sharp and angry silence, heavily lying between them.

Bond frowns, then the engine purrs into life and Bond starts driving.

“There are some good ones, among the trainees. You’re going to have lots of fun handling the three guys who are into parkour. They are like spiders on caffeine, doing stuff everyone else manages, plus climbing the ceiling among other things. I have no idea how did they manage to be suddenly hanging from the beams on the ceiling. They’re going to be blowing up stuff better than I ever dreamt of, and M’s going to lose the rest of his hair,” Bond tells Q, the younger man’s stoic face breaking into grin at the word parkour.

“You are nominating them for the double oh program.”

“Yes, if they survive first year of field ops, yes, they seemed brilliant. After all, I teach only the best.”

Q laughs, then falls silent again, but the ghost of smile lingering on Q’s lips make this silence soft and welcoming.

 

*

 

Felix is a big furry ball that makes himself comfortable on Bond’s feet before the agent can even take his shoes off (Q insists no one walks in his Japanese styled apartment with shoes on and James obeys, as watching Q’s bare feet tap quietly on the wooden floor, sometimes making Bond think there are two cats living there). Q kicks of his sneakers and bends down to pet the ginger furball.

Bond slips of his coat and puts the shoes to their proper shelve, then continues to the kitchen to drop off the bag with fresh groceries. It’s his turn to cook, another hobby of his, although, despite Q’s reluctance to join the agent in the kitchen, Q is quite capable of feeding himself more than just cup ramen, only the rest of his minions would never believe such claim.

He settles for quick pasta with aubergine and tomato sauce, while Q has time to feed the cat and set up his computer again at home.

The sizzling from frying pan, loud humming of the cooker hood, and Felix’s purring are the few noises filling the apartment.

Q turns on the radio, a catchy pop tune reaches Bond’s ears, and he recognizes it, and starts singing along, which makes Q groan loudly at the not so pleasant noises James is making, he was never good at singing, tone deaf as he is.

Q yawns through the dinner, and the dirty dishes are abandoned in favour of match of _Worms_. Who doesn’t like colourful nonsense anyway? Felix nestles under the TV screen, and his ears twitch every time James whines Q beats him again.

 

*

 

The charm of domesticity is that it ends.

The infamous 007 managed to keep his number, but eventually, his job is just glorified bodyguard. Q branch grows in exponential way, almost. Anywhere on the Earth, if there is an internet access, Q’s minions, the smartest and most creative minds Bond was ever unlucky to meet, they wreak havoc and control the world with a thought and pressing of a key.

Bond finds it admirable and terrifying, and he finds a deep comfort in a fact, that even like this, the agents are not redundant, just yet.

 

*

 

M orders 007 to go to extract 004 from Brazil, after his cover was blown, and a drug cartel was after him. 006 joins him, and few other lower agents. It’s a gesture, but all the younger ones see the thing James and Alec want them to see, you will not be left behind. It’s kind of a gesture, especially, since what they manage to extract is only about eighty percent of 004, and all of them return home being worse for a wear.

Q visits the medical, thanks 004 for his service to the Queen and Country and promises to personally oversee his new prosthetic leg.

He visits every other agent in MI6 medical, wishing them fast recovery, then sits on James’s bedside.

“A splintered rib and a concussion. At this rate, when you retire, I’m going to have you replaced by some dumb AI and it’s going to have more brain left,” Q frowns at the blond man who took most of the blows for his team again.

“Phillip, in two weeks I’ll be making the new recruits scared again,” James shrugs his shoulders, “and there was not much brain to begin with anyway.”

Q leaves him with Sudoku puzzle and line about how Felix misses him, and how the fridge is empty when James is not at home.

 

*

 

004, Mark, is removed from the duty with all honours and new really cool prosthetic leg (Q offered a way to conceal firearm in it, but Mark asked only for a knife, saying it’s going to be a hit at barbeque parties) and Bond falls silent himself.

Q looks at him and asks if all is fine and James says yes unconvincingly, and they move on. One of the parkour guys indeed gets the job and he’s good at it.

Q catches Bond smiling like a proud parent when he sneaks into Q branch while Q’s overseeing 004’s mission.

“Tell the parkour guy to fuck with the Russians by climbing the building from the outside.”

004 laughs and does so indeed, and Bond leaves his silence behind, and drops a hint or two about places to visit in Krasnodar.

 

*

  
Sometimes, in between the missions, when the domestic bliss should be setting in, Bond is taking care of a cat and Q is the more important for a while, a silence sets in. Sometimes the silence is sharp and dangerous, sometimes it’s ‘you idiot, that was dangerous even to you’, sometimes it’s absence of words because the book is more interesting than Denmark’s politics, sometimes it’s being too busy to see the need of the man beside him to speak his mind, sometimes the silence is warm and inviting, like lying in bed next to each other, occasionally having Felix walk over them in demand of attention.

In years of service, James Bond learned one thing. Silence was not a bad thing. One is silent when waiting for a mark to assassinate, one is silent when they work, (unless they’re Q, running around his workshop shouting random things that matter only to himself, just to find the thing he was looking for), one is silent in death, but rarely before it if, it isn’t helped.

Silence is full of gestures, looks, meanings.

And what always follows silence, is sound.

 

 

 


End file.
